


Second Son

by cherryburlesque



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Game inspired, Gerudo Link, M/M, Male Sheik, Original Character(s), Original Universe, Sheik as his own character, repost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7646407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryburlesque/pseuds/cherryburlesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Ganondorf laying waste to the land of Hyrule, Link is on the run to avoid both Gerudo and Hylian alike. When he meets Sheik, a fugitive with very little interest in anything but restoring Hyrule to its former glory, Link learns that his fate is far deeper than he could ever have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was accidentally removed from AO3, and despite several pleading emails to the mods, there was unfortunately no way to restore the original back to the site. Which sadly means we've lost all our subscribers and bookmarks, but cheerfully gave me a chance to go through and play with the chapters a bit more before reposting. More editing has happened and more has been planned, making this fic resemble it's source material less and less as time goes on. I'm okay with that!
> 
> If you were an original subscriber, hi! You found us again! If you're a newcomer, hi, and welcome to the ride! Comments and kudos are always loved and appreciated. <3

_ Brother, _

_ Upon leaving the desert we were met with sheets of rain like the ocean falling from the sky. It was unlike anything I had previously witnessed in these lands. _

_ So much prosperity lingers here, even in the closest town to the border. The people grow fat on their comforts, unaware of those outside their bubble. Imagine it; not knowing what it is to go hungry or spend days in search of fresh water. The people are clouded as such that they didn’t even recognise royalty when they saw it—they laughed, like they all thought we were some travelling circus. Such dull witted people they are; you are  fortunate that you were not raised among them. _

_ My audience with the Hyrulian King is finally upon us. It shall be interesting to meet the man behind the land. I have come to understand that the success of a King is best measured by the state of his people. From what I have seen, this man is one who provides for his kingdom with riches and wealth, but not for their souls. I should wonder if he has one himself. I suppose we shall find out. I may even bring you to visit me next time, should this meeting go accordingly; I know you were hoping to join me on this visit, but you are not yet disciplined enough. Perhaps when you have learned to bite your tongue instead of running your mouth at the slightest provocation. Diplomacy is important, particularly in delicate matters such as this. _

_ I am hopeful, despite my disdain for the Hyrulians, that he will agree to trade with us. Perhaps enter into an agreement that will ease the burden of the desert on our people. Picture it if you can; never having to spend days digging wells to find water. Never having to venture out into the wasteland to hunt when the wind dies down. Having food plenty to share of all types and varieties. The girls might no longer have to sneak into the country every few moons. The world might finally begin to learn the might of the Gerudo, desert warriors who have withstood generations of harsh conditions and survived. We would take our rightful place among the revered. _

_ Give my regards to Banyu. Don’t drive her to insanity while I’m gone, I’m sure she’s already dangling on the precipice after your little stunt in the sparring ring just before I left. You’ll send that woman grey before her time,  I’ve no doubt. _

_ Take care, Little Brother. I will be returning soon. _

_ Ganon. _

 

**XxX**

 

Link kicked the door to his room open hard enough that it bounced violently back on its hinges, earning him a harsh reprimand from the guard down the corridor. Cringing and offering her a half-sincere apology, he slipped inside his chambers.

The letter he’d received from his brother earlier that day was sitting on his desk amongst the mess of papers, crafts and trinkets, and on passing it he gave an unconscious little grin. Ganon had always held such high ambitions for his people, and this was one step further in his dream to liberate the Gerudo from their confinements in the harsh world they lived in.  For as long as Link could remember, Ganon had been focused on this task, sometimes even to the point that he would be holed up in his chambers for days studying and planning all manner of things he could utilise that would appeal to the Hylians.

It seemed like he might finally be making some progress too; after so long being rejected for any type of audience with the Hyrulian King, Ganon was finally being ‘granted’ a meeting. While they all knew that it was likely just a show, Link allowed himself to hope that it meant good things for them. Perhaps down the line, it could mean a treaty or open trade, even migration between the people so that they could share their cultures. If that was the case, a whole new world would be opened up for the people of the desert.

Everything was about to change.

Link had always imagined what the country would be like. He wasn’t born there and had technically never set foot there, but he was Hylian by heritage and he’d always had curiosities about the place. When he had first learned that Ganondorf was to visit Hyrule he’d begged to be allowed to go with, but was refused on the grounds that he’d probably goof off and embarrass the Gerudo.

Which wasn’t exactly a lie, but still.

By the sounds of it though, Ganondorf would allow Link to visit the place if negotiations went smoothly, and he was excited by the prospect.

His mind was still on the daydreams of the future as he padded into the washroom and shucked his sand-encrusted clothes, tossing them into the corner by the door. A basin of lukewarm water sat on a marble bench which he upended over his head, scrubbing at his skin until it was pink.

The baths were communal, but when he had reached adolescence his mother had insisted he be given a private washroom—the only other individual in the fortress besides Ganondorf to be allowed one. He was quietly thankful for that.

As was a usual ritual after bathing, Link peered critically at his reflection in the large mirror fixed upon the wall. Cobalt eyes blinked owlishly back at him and fixed themselves into a scowl. The skin around his nose was red again, as were his shoulders and chest. Some time ago Link had entertained the thought that eventually he would acclimatize to the harsh sun of the desert, and maybe even reach the same tone of the rest of the Gerudo. No such luck; while his skin was not as pale as a regular Hylian’s, he still looked like a sheet in comparison to his brethren.

Finishing up his bath, Link collected his dirty clothes and tossed them aside for laundering, shaking out his damp hair with a sigh of contentment. 

He shuffled over to his writing desk and cleared out a space for himself, settling in with a blank sheet of paper and his charcoal poised. In his mind the letter was already half composed, words of excitement and reverence rolling over one another in his eagerness to reply. He paused however, opting to think about what he wanted to say before rushing in and tripping over his words.

After a few moments of contemplation, Link smiled to himself and placed the charcoal tip to paper.

_ Brother... _


	2. I

Cicada chirps beat back the stillness of the forest as sun beams bored through the canopy, etching the world in white light. After clearing a dense thicket of trees, Link stopped to lean heavily against a trunk, wiping the sweat from his face on the back of his hand. Hunting this morning had proven uneventful, same as it had the day before. And the one before that.

The days of not eating were blurring together in a cruel fashion; where once he would complain vocally to let out some of the frustration, he now no longer had the energy to spare. All he could do was keep trudging along through the forest and try not to lose hope as his stomach attempted to eat itself.

A small drizzle began to fall through the canopy above, Link sighing as he slid away his blade. Anything worth hunting would seek shelter during the rains so he’d have to wait for it to pass before trying again. He had a few deku nuts in his pouch he’d picked up the other day, but they hurt his stomach when he ate more than a few at a time - they probably weren’t intended as food but he had little choice; it was either that or starve.

The Lost Woods were both pleasing to look upon and perilous to wander. Tree trunks grew wider than his arms could even hope to circle around and the flora that grew took his breath away. Mushrooms that dripped black ink and flowers that bloomed only in the dead of night; it truly was a wonder to behold. But its name should have been a hint to the man seeking sanctuary as he had quickly found himself forever trapped within the trees, never finding more than a puddle of water to drink from or a cramped cave to sleep in. And while there was plenty of forest wildlife around, none of the creatures he found would be considered game. Fairies and stalkids, deku sprouts and skulltulas; maybe there were ways to eat such things but Link hadn’t a clue. Besides, none of them looked all too pleasing to his palate anyway, so he stuck with the deku nuts until he could find something with more sustenance.

So here he was, lost in strange land, though he really didn’t want to find his way. What waited for him outside of these woods was almost worse than the fate of starvation he faced in here. The King wanted his head after all, and Link was not feeling up to obliging such a wish.

He stopped by a small outcropping of rocks, taking from a puddle of rainwater that had formed to wash off his face of the sweat and grime that had built up in layers. It was raining but it never was heavy enough to do more than make his clothes damp and leave the world humid; if he could just find a damn river maybe he could get clean properly—

Behind him a twig snapped and Link spun around so fast he made himself dizzy.

His instincts already had him pulling his scimitar from his hip to block, which saved his life as something hit his blade and had him stumbling back.

Afforded the space and a moment for his head to clear, Link now saw what had attacked him - or rather who. Dirty ruined bandages wrapped around blue cloth, a short blade held in perfect form, body crouched like an animal low to the ground.

Bright red eyes peeking out from behind blond hair.

_Sheikah._

An agent of the Hylian monarchy had found him then. Funny, he’d been expecting an attack for days, but never from a living shadow. He’d consider himself lucky were this not a life and death situation.

“Who are you?” he spat, his own stance shifting to ready for another attack.

The warrior didn’t answer his question, nor did he move to strike, merely staring at Link for several seconds. Link realized the man was shaking, his grip on his blade loose and eyes so wide they gave everything about him away.

_He’s terrified._

“You’re far away from home, _Gerudo,”_ the man finally spoke, his voice deeper than expected for someone of his lithe stature. “Have you come to finish the job?”

“Wha—?” Link barely got the question out before he was being attacked again, forced to deflect the thin deadly blade of his foe. He tried to return his own strike, but his weapon was too large and the space between them too small for him to have a chance against the Sheikah’s speed, instead reduced to blocking every blow dealt his way.

The Sheikah hissed curses at him in a foreign tongue as they fought, Link not recognizing a single word of it. But he quickly lost ground as he was forced backwards playing defense and, coupled with his own frustration and hunger, began cursing back in his own language with every foul word he could grab.

“ _Shadow devil! Filthy rotten scum! I will sell your eyes on the black market for leeches!_ ” he snarled as he pushed back against his attacker. Even though the Sheikah had the upper hand in speed, Link held the lion’s share of strength, and he used it to his advantage in every possible way.

But all too quickly both fighters had slowed, panting and making rookie mistakes. A misstep yielding a deep slice to an arm, a stumble earning a cry of pain. They were losing not to each other but to themselves as exhaustion took hold. It was dangerous and Link was starting to fear for his life.

The Sheikah must have felt the same fear, because he became desperate enough to throw his blade aside and charge in unarmed. Link was so caught off guard by the fists flying his way that he pulled his blade upwards  and left himself completely open to attack. He’d only ever really fought in spars with his friends and family, which in this life or death situation had just proven to be an extreme disadvantage. His instinct to not harm another—borne from years of friendly tussles with his sisters—had now possibly cost him his life.

A fist drove into the soft flesh right below his ribs, forcing the air from his lungs and his body to bow forward, scimitar slipping from his fingers. In the next instant, he was tackled to the ground hard enough to see stars. Dazed and winded, he could only react on reflex alone to grab a handful of dirt and throw it at his enemy's face, earning a shout of anger as the Sheikah stumbled back clutching at his eyes.

Link flipped around on the ground, spotting his scimitar a few feet away. With a desperate wheeze, he began crawling as fast as he could toward it, just pushing himself up on to his feet to sprint when a sudden weight slammed into his back and sent him back down, chin smacking into a sharp piece of rock.

Small hands clawed at Link’s face, the Gerudo flipping over to throw the man off his back and give himself a chance to fight. But a swift and unexpected kick came to his temple, knocking stars through his head. Link’s hands came up to cover his eyes and his back arched, hissing in pain as he tried to will the world to stop spinning.

“ _Fuck, that hurts_ ,” he groaned in Gerudo, ears ringing from the blow. The rain had petered off sometime during their fight and a few bird calls were beginning to echo through the forest as life resumed from the break. Link tried to ground himself in the calm of the world around him but found his efforts were thwarted when weight settled on his chest and hands curled around his neck.

Link’s own hands shot out to begin clawing at the Sheikah anywhere he could gain purchase, scratching the other’s arms hard enough that his blunted nails drew blood. He didn’t care where or how he caused pain, only that he did enough to force the Sheikah off him and free his lungs.

“ _Analyia mik nariyo tul sinyaeth sin'ha, deseyaru_ ,” the blond above him spat like poison as his fingers tightened around Link’s throat, the Gerudo feeling panic quickly set in.

Link reached up to grab something, _anything_ , and when his own fingers found a short pointed ear he pulled as hard as he could. The Sheikah cried at the pain, tipping over to follow Link’s hand lest he lose the ear being tugged. Link used the movement to buck the man off his body, pushing him away as best he could to scramble backwards. He needed to put space between them, he needed a weapon, but with how quickly his foe kept coming at him it was almost impossible to find an opening to claim the higher ground.

Despite Link's efforts to reach for his scimitar, the shadow warrior was one step ahead, knocking the blade further away and locking his fingers back around Link’s throat. Link reached mindlessly to claw or grab at anything he could to escape the darkness bleeding into his vision. The warrior was smart, however, leaning back just out of reach. With his vision fading, Link tried to leverage the smaller male off with desperate kicks but to no avail—he was just too weak to fight anymore as his body threatened to surrender completely.

In that moment Link suddenly didn’t care about fighting fair or trying to not truly hurt his enemy. Because the man above him held no such thoughts and Link was going to die if he didn’t do something drastic in the next few seconds.

Pulling back a fist Link aimed as best he could for the Sheikah’s groin and let the punch fly.

A telling howl echoed through the trees, the pressure of murderous hands leaving his throat as the Sheikah rolled off his chest and to the ground. No more attacks came.

The Gerudo remained lying there for a solid minute, hand raising to touch at his throat. The skin felt tender already and, as his fingers followed a trail of liquid upwards, Link found a huge gouge on his chin from where he’d smacked it on the rocks earlier.

“Dirty… fucking… coward…” a broken voice wheezed nearby, Link looking over to see the Sheikah hunched over clutching between his legs. “Should have known you’d resort to such tricks _._ Dirty _sand devil._ ”

Link barked out a single laugh in return before coughing; the pressure to his throat coupled with the lack of water making it tough to breathe, let alone speak. “You were the one who attacked me, _blood eye.”_

They both fought for air, Link continuing to poke idly at his wounded chin, the Sheikah continuing to nurse his privates. Neither of them tried to speak again, and neither were interested in finding out what the other was doing. Link thought he might have the upper hand now if the Sheikah tried to attack him again, so he remained supine staring at the canopy while he slowed his panicked breathing down.

Despite the intensity of their fight—if one could even call it that—Link couldn't quell his curiosity. With the rush of the altercation quieting, he had a moment to truly assess the stranger before him. The Sheikah looked just as exhausted and starved as Link, his clothes hanging off him just a tad too much and his hair just a bit too grimy. Knowing well the state it could put a person in, Link couldn't resist prying. It was the least the Sheikah could offer considering the unwarranted attack.

“Why _did_ you come at me anyway?” It was an honest enough question, and since they were probably about to start clawing at one another's throats again at any minute he might as well know why he was fighting. “I wasn’t doing anything that would justify a sneak attack.”

“Because _your_ King sent you to kill me,” the Sheikah groaned. “You think me a fool enough to let you strike first?”

“I have no King…” Link whispered automatically in response, which earned him a pair of red eyes gazing at him in confusion. He merely waved his hand dismissively in the air before letting it fall back to the forest floor in a dull thud. “I wasn’t sent by anyone to kill anyone. I’m just trying to find my way to some damn food and water, alright?”

At his words they fell silent again, only their huffs for breath making any sound between them. Link turned to his opposite side to eye his blade, calculating how far away it was and how quickly he could make a run for it if need be. But the man at his side didn’t seem able to move even after several minutes and Link wasn’t feeling like he had the energy to do much of anything at that point regardless.

“ _Nyis’tak…_ ”

The Sheikah hissed, Link turning back to him with exasperation. “I don’t speak Sheikah.”

“I think you broke my dick.”

Despite the exhaustion and the thirst, Link couldn’t help it when after a second of silence he let out a loud snort followed by breathless chuckles. He couldn’t stop even as the Sheikah threw a curse in foreign tongue his way, the Gerudo continuing the laugh until he almost choked himself to death and finished his enemy’s job for him. He had no idea why it was so funny. Maybe it was an instinctive hysterical reaction to the entire ordeal. Or maybe it was the sound of such a crass phrase falling from the mouth of one who belonged to the race that Link had always been taught were pompous to a fault. Either way, he collapsed into laughter and couldn’t stop until he was wheezing for breath all over again.

“My name’s Link,” he turned to the Sheikah and offered a grin when his hysterical chortling had finally died away. “What’s yours?”

The shadow warrior huffed out a pained breath and squinted back at the Gerudo. Punching a guy in his junk, getting cut up and nearly suffocated—it had to be the worst possible way to meet a new person ever.

But it was better than being alone and dead.

“...My name is Sheik.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me fuel, lovelies!


	3. II

“So…you’re Sheik.” Red eyes glanced up at him with an annoyed expression, and Link’s lips quirked. “Sheik the Sheikah. Wow.”

He was given a withering look for his comment, which only made him twist his mouth as he tried to hide the amused grin threatening to break through. Sheik tugged the mask down from around his mouth and nose and slowly dragged himself into a half sitting position.

Link watched him from the corner of his eyes as he debated his next course of action. There was clearly something going on that he didn’t fully understand, nor apparently did his adversary. Sheik had accused Link of being sent to find him while Link had thought the exact opposite, and that alone told the Gerudo that perhaps they were both in a similar situation. The guy looked about as starved as Link felt after all, and they had both been fighting for their lives as much as each other.

Hissing at the cuts on his chin, Link dragged himself up. He ignored the way the other tensed, cursing softly when his fingers came away from his face glistening with his own blood.

There was a vial of red potion in his small sack of supplies, but Link was loathe to use it on something as insignificant as a few scratches. Such a thing was a precious commodity and he didn’t want to waste it on something so small.

But when a curse echoed across the clearing and distracted him from his own thoughts, he realized that he probably didn’t have a choice.

His scimitar had left an ugly wound on the Sheikah’s arm, the thin cloth he was using to try and stem the flow doing little to help. Sheik was already beginning to tremor slightly, and if his wound wasn’t attended to properly it could very well spell his own end.

_ Serves him right, _ Link thought harshly. But that thought didn’t last long when Sheik leaned forward, breathing heavily while he clearly fought not to sway. If the guy was as weak as Link himself was, which Link thought was a definite possibility given the nature of their fight, he wouldn’t last long.

Link sighed and—cursing himself ( _ and _ Sheik) all the while—reached into his rucksack where the tiny vial was kept. It was barely two thirds full, but enough to knit an injury like the cut the Sheikah had sustained.

He stood, bringing the last few pieces of food he had with him, and approached the injured Sheikah with his hands raised in an attempt to placate him. Red eyes, bright with the fever threatening him, glared up through thick blonde hair as Link moved forward. His legs scratched at the dirt in a clear attempt to move back, but he was already too weak to get a proper foothold.

“Here,” he said, squatting down beside Sheik with the vial held in offering. “Red potion. It’ll stop the bleeding.”

There was a tense silence. Sheik glared at the potion without moving to take it, and then squinted up at Link with a look of disbelief on his face.

“Why are you offering me this?”

Link shrugged. “You’re on the run obviously, so that makes two of us. I’m kinda sick of being out here by myself and it’d be pretty weak to get up and leave you to die when I have a means to stop it.”

“I just attacked you. I would have killed you if I’d had the chance.”

Link raised an eyebrow in response, mouth twisting into a bemused grin. “Are you trying to convince me to leave? You’re not exactly building a good case for yourself here.”

Sheik opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off when he clapped a hand—stained red with his own blood—to it and heaved violently.

Not a good sign.

“Just drink it,” Link snapped, pulling the vial open before he could convince himself not to. “You’ll be beyond saving if you lose any more blood. Here.”

He shook it in front of Sheik’s face, and any more protests the blond would have made were silenced in his inevitable desperation to remain alive. Brown fingers snatched it out of Link’s hands and Sheik upended the whole thing, face twisting in disgust as he swallowed it down.

Link watched the red liquid disappear sadly, silently wondering when the next time would be when he’d get an opportunity to obtain more.

He moved back then, settling down by his rucksack and poked at his chin some more, glad that the cuts were already beginning to dry out. The only sounds punctuating the thick forest were Sheik’s harsh breathing, and the odd sounds of wildlife.

“There’s a bit of food in that bag there too if you want it. It’s not much, but it’ll do until I can get more,” he said after a few minutes.

Silence greeted him in answer, and he glanced up to see Sheik once again glaring at him suspiciously.

“What?” Link said, exasperated by the constant scrutiny. “You’re clearly in no condition to hunt, and I don’t really fancy dying of starvation any time soon.” He reached into his bag again, dragging out his hunting knife. Rolling his eyes when Sheik tensed again, Link stood and gestured at the bag. “Eat those. They’ll help.”

He was almost out of the clearing when he heard a snort of amusement from behind him.

“Deku nuts? Are you serious?”

“Don’t eat them then,” he snapped over his shoulder. “Stay there and bleed out if you’re so insistent on it.”

“Do you know what these are for? I could rob you blind right now and be a thousand miles away before you even recovered from the flash.”

“Go ahead,” Link replied. “It’s not like you’ll find anything of value. I’m going to find food.  _ Which, _ by the way,” he added with a slight sneer, “I was trying to do when I was so kindly attacked.”

That silenced him. Sheik turned back to the nuts with a scowl and cracked one open, lifting it to his still-bloody mouth to drain of its nectar. Link rolled his eyes and turned away, slinking into the darkness of the forest.

Their scuffle must have awoken the dormant wildlife in the place, drawn to the sounds of fighting and the scent of blood in the air. Link could have sworn he’d heard the snuffling of a wolfos as he skirted quietly through the undergrowth, but any fear he had of the beast was swallowed up when he entertained the thought of just how  _ much _ a single wolfos could provide. It was unlikely that he’d catch one though, at least not at his current strength, so he simply moved away.

After a short time, the cheerful bubbling of water drew him to a shallow creek, and Link grinned in victory. If no animals would approach to drink, there’d be fish to catch at least. He took a moment to wash his face of dried blood, filling his water skin before moving away to hide.

While he waited, he thought of the Sheikah back in the clearing, trying to match him to the things that books and teachers had told of the elusive race when Link was little.  _ Eyes of blood _ …well that was true. Sheik’s eyes were a deep red, though they were brighter than Link had imagined, and his stare felt like it could curdle milk if he glared at it long enough. Link had the uncomfortable feeling of being pierced right through by that gaze.

Sheik had been clearly as desperate and frightened as Link when he’d attacked, and he wasn’t at all what Link had thought a skilled assassin would be. The teachers when he was little had told him of a Sheikah’s dirty tricks, using illusions and shadows that they could bend to their will. Sheik hadn’t done any of that, which lead him to believe that Sheik was either extremely bad at what he did, or he was equally as weakened from isolation.

Link took a moment to amuse himself with the former.

The Sheikah were driven out when the King took the throne, or so Link had heard. Cast out and no longer belonging anywhere, little was known what had become of them in the time since they had fled. For one to be so far away and in such a state—Sheik was clearly as much an outcast as Link himself was. Which could mean one of two things: A bitter enemy or potential ally.

Link had only just enough time to think about that before dinner presented itself. Two skinny looking rabbits emerged from the undergrowth, hopping down towards the stream where they paused. Silently, Link edged forward from his hiding place, breath held in anticipation. In his mind’s eye, he could already see them roasting on a spit.

Body language shifting into a hunter’s stance, Link began to corner his prey. He’d learned from the best hunters among his people how to intimidate a smaller creature into skittering exactly where he wanted it to go, and within minutes Link found his opportunity. With his knife between his teeth, both hands darted out, catching the rabbits by the scruff of their necks.

In a ritual that was more habit than need, Link offered a small prayer of thanks to Din before getting to work cleaning his kill by the river.

By the time he had found his way back to the clearing, the light had dimmed to an oppressive twilight and a soft glow was visible through the trees. The odd sounds of music could be heard too, making his face scrunch in confusion.

As he entered the firelight he spotted Sheik reclining by the boughs of a tree, looking far better than he had when Link departed. In his hands was an ancient looking harp of some kind, and he was plucking at the strings undisturbed even as Link dropped the carcasses by the edge of the fire.

“I see you found my flint.”

His only response was a wan smile while the music continued without pause. Link sighed and set about mounting the rabbits on a couple of sticks he’d picked up along the way back, letting them settle over the flames to roast.

“So, Link the Gerudo,” Sheik said after a minute—Link snorted at the name, ignoring the instinctual need to dispute the comment—“is there any particular reason you’ve been exiled?”

Everything came to a halt. Link’s breath caught in his throat and he tensed, throwing a glare over his shoulder to see the Sheikah with his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture.

“Don’t worry,” Sheik said, perhaps a little quicker than normal, “I don’t intend on turning you in anywhere. Odds are doing so would only get us both killed. But nothing about you makes sense, and it’s the only conclusion I can draw.”

Link didn’t answer, turning back to his work while he tried to ignore the flash of pain that rippled through him at being called a Gerudo once again. It was still a sore spot that he didn’t acknowledge, and he focused instead on turning the spits in the fire instead of answering Sheik’s question.

“Or, if you don’t want to tell me that, you could share where it is you’re heading?”

Link had to fight against the flare of anger in his gut. His instinctive response was to bite back, to tell the Sheikah that it was none of his business and that he had no right to pry. But as fast as it came the anger receded, leaving nothing but emptiness and a bone-weary tiredness in its wake.

“I don’t know where,” he replied dully. “I’m just… going.”

The music stopped and Link flicked his eyes up to see Sheik gazing at him contemplatively. Those eyes were unsettling and he quickly looked away, fixating on turning the rabbits as though it would give him something to distract himself with.

“What about you?” he countered. “Why did you end up so far out here half starved to death?”

The music started again, a different melody that sounded soothing to his ears, one that had the Gerudo relaxing quickly. . .Link gave the harp a suspicious look—did that thing have magic imbued in it?

“I was investigating something,” Sheik replied, gazing at the strings while he played. “Following the uprising in Castle Town, I…” Sheik paused, seeming to think over how much was safe to say. “I learned that the Princess was not found. I was on my way to the Temple of Farore to see whether the Oracle could help.”

“With nothing but a harp and a few tiny knives?”

Sheik shot him a cool look, stopping his music to hold the thing protectively. “It’s a lyre, thank you very much. And no, I wasn’t so poorly equipped when I set out. I was on my way through when a band of mercenaries passed by a few days ago.” His defensive tone slid away, the man turning sadly contemplative. “They swiped my horse and my supplies. I’m worried about what it means for the people in the Temple.”

Link didn’t respond immediately, instead pulling the rabbits off the fire, judging them properly cooked. He stood and moved over to Sheik, handing him one of the spits before sitting down a few feet away, gazing at his own for a few moments.

The princess had disappeared before the uprising. Did that mean that there was a chance she was still alive? He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it if he was honest, but a sense of guilt had begun to nag at him, and he thought about it while he picked idly at the meat. Suddenly, Link didn’t feel so hungry anymore.

“I met the Princess once,” Link said, breaking the silence. Sheik didn’t seem too surprised to hear that—though if he was, Link suspected that he was trained to hide it well. “She was nice. A lot nicer than her father. Din rest his soul, but he was a genuine prick.”

Sheik bristled, and Link’s guard automatically went up. There was a brief moment of tension before the Sheikah exhaled a laugh, shaking his head.

“Despite my reservations about voicing my opinions regarding the late King, I tend to agree with you. I had heard from the Princess how he refused to aid your people. It despaired her greatly. The King hated change; he liked to think everything was perfectly fine the way it was, when any idiot with a brain could see that it wasn’t.”

Link found himself surprised at Sheik’s words. He’d thought Sheik would immediately jump to the King’s defense, claiming him to be a noble man and other such ilk that Sheikah were all brainwashed to believe. But clearly, judging by the things he was saying, it wasn’t so.

“Well, he made enemies with the wrong person and look where that got him,” Link muttered, tearing into the rabbit. He didn’t have to look at Sheik to know that the man was appalled at the comment.

With the conversation effectively killed, Link was left to ponder the ideas that were sneaking into his head. If Zelda was alive, it could mean Link had a chance to right a good deal of wrongs. He could have the opportunity to stand against Ganon again, and fix the problems that the failed treaty had brought about. It could mean the restoration of more than one kingdom.

Link might have the chance to go home and have his old life back.

“You should rest,” Sheik muttered when they had finished eating, discarding the bones of their meals for the scavengers. “I can keep watch.”

Link looked sideways at the other—suspicious of the offer—causing the Sheikah to roll his eyes.

“Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll hand over all my weapons to you.”

Before Link could protest, Sheik had already begun unsheathing the daggers hidden on him, tossing them towards Link where they landed in the dirt by his side. Link was still half caught up in his thoughts to really register it, but he supposed absently that if Sheik was willing to go unarmed while he slept, it meant he trusted Link to a degree. Perhaps he could afford the Sheikah the same offer.

But sleep was too good to pass up, and after the events of the day Link truly was exhausted. The idea of getting a restful sleep with a fire to keep him warm was a welcome one, and he nodded in thanks as he tugged his pack over to use as a makeshift pillow.

As he did so, he pulled out his hunting knife and the scimitar he kept on him at all times, adding them both to the small pile of Sheik’s weapons. He felt that the small gesture offered a measure of trust between them, and Sheik seemed to appreciate it by the small nod he gave.

Laying down on his back, Link’s thoughts still drifted across his mind and distracted him from the embrace of sleep. He was lost in the memories of the Princess—how regal and poised she had been when he had met her, and of the interest she had taken in the Gerudo plight. She really had seemed hopeful that it would lead to prosperity, and never treated any of the Gerudo visitors like they were lesser people for all their differences and, as most of the other Hylians called it, savage manners. It was only a shame that her status in the court meant she had very little power to make a difference.

But if she were alive, it would mean she remained the rightful heir. No—she was the Queen. And her power was greatly increased by that fact. She could help them dethrone Ganondorf, and return the Monarchy to its rightful state. And then, once all that was done, Link could go home. He could knock some sense into Ganon, and they could return home where he would be welcome amongst his people once again.

Lyre music picked up, soft and soothing in the dim atmosphere. Link’s thoughts turned to the Sheikah. If he was looking for Zelda, it meant that he thought she was alive too, and that he possibly had some way to find her. Did he think there was a chance for her to regain her throne? Did he intend to help?

“...Sheik?”

Sheik paused in his music, and when Link turned to face him he saw those red eyes glittering eerily in the firelight, once again making him feel like Sheik was seeing right through him.

“Do you think you’re really going to find her?”

Sheik sighed heavily, picking up the lyre again to continue on with the melody he’d been playing. “Yes,” he said resolutely. “I intend to search until I either find her or die trying. There is no other option. ”

“…May I accompany you?”

This time, Sheik didn’t stop playing on purpose—instead, a flat note sounded, and he hissed in obvious surprise. Link didn’t really blame him; a Sheikah travelling with a Gerudo? It sounded like the stuff of fairytales.

“We will discuss it in the morning,” came the reply. “Go to sleep, or I’ll take your place and you can take first watch.” Sheik started playing again, the melody light and airy with a quick flow, and Link wondered if the fast pace was intended to act as the end of their discussion.

Relieved, Link grinned, rolling over onto his back again to allow the soft notes to lull him. If the Princess was alive, Link would sacrifice any of his remaining pride to find her and turn everything back. Even if it meant travelling with the sworn enemy of his people.


	4. III

Link woke blearily when Sheik prodded him, the other looking bone weary as his face came into focus. Sitting up, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, feeling like he hadn’t slept so much as a wink.

They only exchanged a few words as Sheik settled down, silence falling over them once again as Link took up a spot to keep watch and Sheik finally gave himself over to rest. Link passed the time by studying the man curled across the fire.

The stories had always told of large, intimidating creatures—sometimes eight or ten feet tall. They were humanoid, but not human, nor were they Hylian or Gerudo or anything besides, and they existed by feeding on shadow and playing tricks on those around them. 

_ Never trust a Blood Eye _ , his teacher had taught him when he was little.  _ They will trick you into their traps and then feed on you to keep their eyes as evil and red as ever. _

Now though, being in the presence of the very race the Gerudo had been so prejudiced against...well. Sheik looked positively ordinary. His eyes were eerie, and he spoke like an old man, but he wasn’t like the great monstrous things Link had come to associate with them. 

Man, he really  _ had _ lived quite a sheltered life out in the desert.

Through the early hours of the morning, Link pondered over the man asleep before him, and on the likelihood of success of the mission he’d invited himself to be part of. Sheik hadn’t exactly said yes, but he hadn’t said no either, so as far as Link was concerned he was as good as solid on following.

It took hardly a spoken word to rouse the Sheikah to wakefulness when dawn finally broke the sky. Within minutes, Sheik was fully awake and looking far better than Link felt, both of them moving around the camp to collect their things.

“So…um. Which way are we…?” Link rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly inspecting his blades as he spoke. “I know we didn’t really talk about it, but I promise I can be useful. I’m a good hunter and I’m used to travelling long distances—,”

“Link,” Sheik cut him off tonelessly, inspecting the end of his blade. “Shut up. We make for south east, towards the temple today. I don’t know what awaits us there, but there should be some insight as to where to go if we consult the Oracle.”

Link was still processing what had happened while Sheik spoke. He hadn’t exactly agreed, not outright at least, but he was openly sharing his intentions with Link. Which had to mean he had accepted Link’s company—right?

“…are you listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, sorry,” he laughed awkwardly, shoving the last of his items into his back to sling over his shoulder. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that the mercenaries who accosted me on my way through here were coming from that direction,” Sheik replied. “I worry about what they may have done if the Temple was their destination.”

Link shrugged. “Probably just raiding for goods.” Sheik frowned at him, obviously not comprehending the reason but Link brushed it off with a non-committal flick of his wrist. “No one’s ever interested in the Oracle’s when they want shit to sell,” he continued blithely. “You were probably just collateral damage.”

A shadow crossed Sheik’s face at that, and when he turned away Link allowed himself to cringe with the realisation that he’d put his foot in his mouth. He cleared his throat awkwardly, unnecessarily readjusting his belts as Sheik turned away and began walking briskly out of the clearing.

“Anyway, what’s the Oracle like here? The one in the desert was a bit…bizarre.”

Visiting that woman had always given Link the creeps. She’d never paid much attention to things, always talking in riddles and never giving a straight answer. He distinctly remembered one occasion during his coming-of-age in the desert when she had said that ‘ _ the rising of the sun not of the Goddess will soothe the fires of the sourge’ _ , and the Gerudo had spent days pondering over what the hell it had meant _. _ They never got their answer, and ever since he’d thought the Oracle was barking.

“The Oracle of Farore never made regular appearances,” Sheik replied after a moment. “She only emerged during ceremonies as the voice of our Patron Goddess.”

“Really? Ours was always reachable. Always had something to say too, used to drive me nuts.”

Sheik’s smile couldn’t be seen clearly through his cowl, but the corners of his eyes lifted just enough for Link to recognise it. He returned it with a grin of his own, finding himself begin to feel a little more comfortable.

They continued on in silence for a time. Link didn’t mind; it was good to let him ponder.

It was clear that Sheik was just being polite when he spoke of the Oracles. While the Oracle of Din was always present like Link had said, she was still as detached and cold as Farore’s sounded. Despite that though, Sheik obviously held them in high respect as the voices of the Goddesses themselves.

Link sagely kept any wisecracks he might have had about the subject to himself.

The forest’s surroundings didn’t change much as they picked their way through the undergrowth. The air was humid and thick with the promise of rain, and by noon Link had a thin layer of sweat against his skin that made his entire body sticky and uncomfortable. He had no idea how Sheik was handling it with the way he was wrapped up from head to toe.

Then again, Link was used to the dry heat of the desert. Perhaps Sheik was used to this.

When they stopped for a brief drink and a bite of the leftover rabbit, Link was beginning to feel uneasy. What had originally been the humid silence of the forest had become an oppressive aura. It had been building gradually over time, and was subtle enough that it was only when they stopped that they noticed it.

“Can you feel that?” Sheik murmured quietly. Link nodded, meeting apprehensive red eyes. “This is a dark aura…something has happened, but I can’t discern what. We should be on our guard.”

That was the last thing either of them spoke of for the rest of the journey. Sheik’s cowl went up, along with Link’s red scarf. Both of them kept tight grip on their weapons, instinctively moving closer together as though they had been running drills as a pair their entire lives.

As they drew closer towards the temple, the aura began to grow. A warning, Link thought, to outsiders that they should keep away if they valued their lives. And as it built more and more, he began to worry about the people in the Temple grounds.

All Temples had their keepers, usually priestesses and attendants that kept order and maintained the buildings while civilians made their pilgrimage to and from. If something had happened to the Temple of Farore, those that lived there almost certainly would have been caught in it. The thought made Link’s skin prickle, irritating on top of the crawling feeling of black magic in the air.

Quietly, he drew his scimitar and kept it held steady at his side, spotting Sheik out of the corner of his eye doing the same.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. The beginnings of the pathway leading towards the Temple were becoming visible, though where they had once been carefully constructed and orderly were now torn up and uneven. Decorative statues had once lined the paths, some of them with little fountains and gardens. Now they were just dead, clogged with dirt and grime from years of decay and neglect.

Or a spell designed to ruin.

By the time they reached the ancient stone torii, both Link and Sheik were highly strung, nerves on edge with the atmosphere. Not a single animal was to be seen, and everything seemed duller to the eyes. The torii itself was undamaged, but the buzzing magic in the air made Link feel like he was hitting some kind of mania. He couldn’t hear anything besides the rushing in his ears, and it was only that he could see Sheik out of the corner of his eye that he knew he was there.

When they reached the clearing that opened into the ancient Temple village, they both paused. Link cast his gaze to Sheik, seeing red eyes narrowed as he stared in front of him. It was immediately clear why; outside the Temple should have been bustling with activity, even if it was ancient and weatherworn. There should have been attendants and priestesses in the garden, civilians enjoying the serenity and little market holders setting up their shops to try and sell some of their trinkets to travellers.

But it was as dilapidated as if it had been abandoned for centuries. The forest was already claiming its land back, and the smell of decay drifted in the air.

A hand landed on Link’s arm, and he had to fight not to react with a swing of his weapon on impulse. Sheik had moved in close, tense and nervous as Link was with the unnatural quality of the place.

“Something has happened here,” Sheik murmured. “The magic in the air reeks of foul intent, but I can’t see any illusions. I don’t—“

Sheik was cut off abruptly as a howl ripped through the air. Both of them jumped, weapons raised as they scanned around them. To Link, it had sounded like a wolfos or something similar but he couldn’t pinpoint a direction it had come from, and judging by the way Sheik was circling on the spot, neither could he.

“We shouldn’t linger,” Sheik hissed, gripping Link’s arm again in a vice like grip to drag him along. “There are foul things at play here, malevolent things. I have felt this magic before and I—,”

Whatever Sheik was about to say was cut off again when the magic around them reached fever pitch. It rose up so harshly and suddenly that  Link nearly dropped his weapon to clamp his hands over his ears, a furious buzzing filling his head like a horde of angry bees. He felt Sheik tense beside him, but through the teeth ringing timbre of the magic he couldn’t hear or see what he was saying.

Every instinct was telling him to flee. To get out and run, away from the Temple and out of the forest, where he would be safe and he could breathe again. It was only sheer willpower alone that kept him rooted to the spot.

And just like that, as soon as it had come, the magic was gone. It was so disorienting that Link had to close his eyes to stop himself from swaying on the spot.

Beside him, Sheik swore. At least, Link thought he did—he spoke in his native tongue, but there was little mistaking that tone.

He snapped his eyes open at once, and hissed a curse of his own at what confronted them. Ice settled in his gut and he immediately crouched into a defensive stance, scimitar raised and ready.

Two hulking, putrid looking skeletons, each with four arms and four deadly looking weapons grinned eerily down at them, croaking sounds of laughter echoing from their decaying throats.

“ _ Stalmasters _ ,” Sheik spat. He drew his own weapons, but Link didn’t spare him a glance. There wasn’t time enough to.

As soon as Sheik spoke, the Stalmasters attacked.

Link had fought several beasts in his life; some that he would have once considered extraordinary by all means. Nothing compared to these fiends before him now.

They launched in tandem, and on pure instinct Link hurled himself forward at one of them, just as he heard Sheik spring towards the other. But he didn’t jump headlong into battle just yet—to do so would be foolish when he had no idea of his enemy’s capabilities.

So he feinted to the side, drawing his target away from its companion, separating himself from Sheik so neither of them would interfere with one another while they sparred. As he did so, he took the opportunity to seize up his opponent, taking in every possible advantage and weakness the beast had.

Four arms, four weapons; an axe and three swords of varying design. Each weapon looked like a fatal blow waiting to happen. He would need to disarm to stand a chance.

As the monster turned into his feint, Link noted with a bit of confidence that the creature was slow, despite the deadly strength of its swing. He rolled away easily under the swipe of a blade, taking the opportunity to land a first strike to its ribs, using the flat of his blade to crush instead of cleave. The beast gave a guttural roar, Link gritting his teeth as he rolled up behind it to kick it in its spine, feeling the brittle bones fracture under his force. 

The axe came chasing him but Link had already jumped back, breathing out a quick sigh of relief before diving back into the fray. It approached again but where Link thought he had the opportunity to strike it held up its weapons like a shield, Link’s own hit bouncing back at him.

In the recoil Link nearly lost his head to a sword, but managed to duck and roll away in time, gnashing his teeth together and cursing under his breath at his mistake. The thing was not only using its weapons to cleave him to pieces; it was also using them as a defence as well. He would have to get around it and whittle away at the decaying, reanimated tissue of its body.

A heavy sword threatened to disembowel him as he lurched to the side, engaging the Stalmaster in a sort of twisted dance of circling and sidestepping. Link threw himself to the side again as the axe came down where he stood, the weight of it leaving a mighty crack in the stone beneath them. The downward motion gave Link a fraction of time to break; while the Stalmaster freed the axe from the ground, he darted around it and swung his weapon down with a triumphant cry, separating one of the sword arms from its body.

The monster raged at him in a hollow roar and the force of breaking the bone had left Link’s arm stinging, but Link had found his enemy’s weakness in his frail bones, and the fight suddenly seemed far less impossible.

After that it was—dare he say it—almost fun. He hadn’t had a really good challenge like this since being back in the desert. It made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. Link danced and feinted around the Stalmaster, confusing it with his unpredictable (and somewhat dirty) tricks, slowly but surely hacking away at whatever part of it his scimitar would reach.

The bones cracked and gave way a little more each time, and with each deadened tendon that was severed the Stalmaster had a little less control. By the end Link found himself delivering the finishing blow with a grin and a victory cry that would have made his mothers proud. 

The Stalmaster roared in a choked voice, the glinting red of it’s shadowed eyes under the dented helmet fading into nothing. With nothing left to hold it together, it crumpled into little more than a pile of bones and rusted metal.

Link stood there for a few moments to catch his breath, staring down at what remained of the monster. Now that it was dead (could it die again? Was that even the right word?) it looked about as intimidating as a keese, and he kicked at its bones curiously—only to jump back in surprise when they melted into dust at his feet.

The sharp clang of metal behind him finally brought his mind back to the present—there was still one Stalmaster left, and Sheik hadn’t yet disposed of it.

Link turned sharply, spotting the warring pair a surprising distance away. Sheik had managed to jam the things joints with what looked like throwing needles, and it was lumbering around trying to free itself as the Sheikah nimbly slipped around it.

Instead of intervening, Link opted to watch. To steal another Gerudo’s opponent was considered an insult back home, and Sheik didn’t appear to be having a difficult time. In fact, it looked almost like he was playing with it. He stepped under its wild swings with a grace that Link almost envied, and was using his dagger to determinedly cut away at its tendons just as Link had his own. The proximity meant that it was slower work, as Sheik didn’t have the advantage of distance on his side, but the method was equally as effective.

It didn’t take long at all after that for the second Stalmaster to crumble into nothingness.

“That was easier than it looked,” Link said as he approached Sheik. “I thought we were dead for sure.”

“Stalmasters are formidable, but they are stupid,” Sheik replied. He was ferreting through the bones, collecting his needles as what was left of the Stalmaster disintegrated. “Once you know how to get through them, they’re quite simple to dispose of.”

“Uhuh.”

Link turned back to the promenade that led to the temple, squinting in an effort to see anything else out of the ordinary. As far as he could tell, everything was calm, but he still did not like the idea of travelling back through there. Instinct was telling him that there would be far more unpleasant things in that temple—things they didn’t have the power to deal with.

“We should search the area.”

Link turned back to Sheik with a surprised ‘huh?’ at his statement. But Sheik wasn’t looking at him. He was staring down the promenade with a pensive expression, and it wasn’t until Link spoke that he turned his attention back to him.

“What’s the point of going in there now? It’s abandoned.”

“There might be survivors,” Sheik said evenly. “Or information. This place should not be in such a state, and we should find out why.”

Link could hardly think of a less enticing plan.

“Or,” he said lightly, “we could turn around, and go find some proper food, and consider another course of action.”

Sheik shot him a withering look. “We’ll split up. Search the area around the market, but don’t go into the temple. Yell if you find anything.”

Fighting to bite back a snarky response, Link watched Sheik go while he debated with himself the merits of searching versus staying put. On the one hand, he might find something useful in there—perhaps some more red potion to replenish his depleted stores, or something similar. Or a survivor, he thought glumly.

On the other, the magic was back. It wasn’t as strong, but it was enough to set him on edge.

But Sheik wasn’t flinching in the face of it, and Link would be damned before he let himself back out from cowardice. He’d had enough of that to be going with in his life.

“Fine,” he called after Sheik, “but if any more monsters pop up, you’re hunting for food tonight!”

His only response was a vague wave of the hand, and with gritted teeth he slowly made his way across the promenade to take the opposite side of the market.

There was nothing to be seen amongst the tangled mess of stone and plant life. Not even a rat, or some other vermin poking through hoping for an easy meal. Link searched as thoroughly as he thought reasonable, growing more and more edgy as time wore on and the magic slowly grew again. With no sight of anything living in his area, he heaved a sigh and began to retrace his steps back through the little market.

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself while he picked his way across the dilapidated stones. “Monsters and magic and empty temples. I should have stayed on Death Mountain. Least the Tektites were edible.”

Even so, the idea of going back there was hardly appealing. For one, the heat of the mountain didn’t compare to the heat of the desert as he’d hoped, and the residents were less than welcoming to someone so heavily armed as he. Link hadn’t experienced a Goron sucker punch before, but he didn’t exactly have a hard desire to start.

And for another, if he went back there he’d be alone again. Sheik might be cold and distant, but he was company at least. Following him gave Link both hope and something to do, and despite their short (and admittedly strained) acquaintance, the idea of being alone again was almost unbearable. He’d fight another pair of Stalmasters if it meant he didn’t have to live in solitude again.

A shout broke Link of his musings. It pierced the silence so abruptly that he jolted to a stop, every muscle tense. Through the dull buzzing in his ears from the increasing miasma, he hadn’t heard what had been said, but the voice had unmistakably been Sheik’s.

“Sheik?”

“Link!” Sheik’s voice—sounding slightly higher pitched than normal—broke through the haze beginning to settle over his mind. “Get over here! Now!”

Link hesitated for only a moment before he broke into a run. He stumbled and blundered his way over the broken stones and slippery moss, following the sounds of Sheik’s calls. In his haste, he didn’t notice the magic twanging against his emotions, all caution lost in the face of trying to find his companion.

He had no idea what was happening. Sheik didn’t sound hurt or particularly compromised, but he didn’t sound normal either. It sounded like he’d found something, and judging by the urgency in his tone, he wanted Link there immediately.

“Where are you!?” He called across the promenade. No matter how much he cast his eyes around, he couldn’t see any sign of the Sheikah.

“Over here!” Sheik replied. It had come from the left—a short distance away from the temple entrance. “Hurry!”

So Link bounded his way across the abandoned market, finally spotting the swath of blue and navy cowed on the ground.

_ Oh shit, _ Link thought irrationally,  _ he’s gone and got himself killed _ .

But Sheik wasn’t dead. Far from it. When red eyes turned to meet him, they were wide and very much alive, but full of something he couldn’t discern.

Beside him on the ground was the body of a young woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fight scene in this chapter was written mostly by Sagesins, my original partner in this fic, and modified in part by me.


	5. IV

She couldn’t have been any older than either of them. Dressed in the garb of a priestess, she was pale and thin — far too thin — and looked like she’d been there for some time. For a second, Link thought she was dead, but then she took a long, labouring breath and her sunken eyes opened.

“She wants to talk to you,” Sheik murmured.

“Me?” Link asked incredulously. “Why?”

Sheik just shrugged as he bent down over the priestess to help her sit up. She let out a groan of pain with the movement, however, so he stopped and let her lay back, a pinched expression on his face.

“She’s dying…”

They waited in silence for a few moments, just watching the priestess breathe. Her glassy eyes seemed vacant, and every so often she groaned in pain. Link wished more fervently than ever that he had red potion, but he thought even that wouldn’t save her now. Whatever her injuries were, she was beyond any help but that of a fairy.

Finally, with a long rattling breath, the priestess spoke.

“There is a grove...southeast of this place,” she rasped, “you must go there, and take…take the path of destiny…”

She grimaced, and Sheik reached for her hand. The contact seemed to help, for her eyes cleared a little, and she gazed up at Link with a determined expression.

“Go there. My sister is waiting. Make haste, for the longer you linger the longer the death of our land persists. Please…go to the sacred grove…take up the mantle you are destined for…bring peace to Hyrule again…”

The priestess drew a long, shuddering breath, and was still.

Sheik drew in a breath, and Link watched vacantly as he bowed his head and whispered a prayer.

Link was no stranger to death. In the desert, it was all too common. Animals succumbed to the heat more often than not, and young children wandered off into the wastes, only to be found days later half buried in sand. Women died during childbirth, and the elderly passed quietly in their sleep. He had seen death—had once knocked on its door himself, and so he stood numbly by and watched rather than offered his own words to the priestess.

_ Take the path of destiny… _ what the hell did that mean? Was she implying he could save his brother after all? Was Zelda waiting for them there?

There were no answers to her cryptic words. Only questions.

After a few moments, Sheik folded the priestess’s arms over her chest and stood, cowl drawn up high over his mouth and nose. His eyes were heavy with something Link couldn’t place, and he turned away without a word.

“Wait,” Link said, staring down at the dead woman. “Shouldn’t we burn her?”

“There is too much dark magic here for us to risk it,” Sheik said in an oddly flat voice. “We can do nothing for her now.”

“But…she’ll…”

“Probably become a redead,” Sheik said heavily. “I know.”

“We can’t leave her to that fate!” Link replied. “She’s a priestess! She deserves better!”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Sheik snapped. He turned to face Link with a heavy scowl, posture stiff and cold. “The last thing I want to do is leave her to such a horrible end. But unless you want to summon every single dark creature for miles to this place, there is nothing we can do!”

Link turned back to the girl, guilt rising in him as he gazed down at her. Like many people who died suffering, she didn’t look peaceful. There was no mistaking her for sleeping, not with the way her expression fell slack and her eyes remained partially opened—despite Sheik’s attempts to close them.

But Sheik was right. It was too dangerous to burn her, and burying her would only yield the same fate as if they left her there. He drew in a few deep breaths, and bowed his head once, murmuring a respectful farewell before he turned away.

Sheik said nothing as they left the Temple grounds. In fact, he was uncharacteristically silent. He walked with a strange posture, cowl still drawn up, and he wasn’t glancing around them cautiously like he had been on the way in. Instead he was staring straight ahead of him, walking slightly ahead of Link in a way that made Link feel like he was a scolded child, though he didn’t understand why.

“Hey,” Link broke the silence after a moment, picking up his pace so he could walk beside Sheik. “What did she mean? About the grove and…destiny and all of that?”

“There is a place amongst these woods that is more sacred than any other,” Sheik said stiffly. “It houses something that I had never intended to find, let alone…” he made a curious sound in his throat and shook his head. “Never mind. Regardless, the priestess wishes us to go there, and we will have our answers then.”

_ We will have our answers… _ it sounded like Sheik had questions of his own.

“But what was she talking about destiny?” Link pressed.

“You will find out in time.”

And that was the last he could get out of the Sheikah on the matter.

 

XxX

 

They travelled in silence for the rest of the day, only talking when needed, or when Sheik stopped to gauge their direction and move onto the right path. It was painfully stiff and formal, and Link was beginning to quietly wish he had opted to remain alone. Especially if this was how Sheik was going to be permanently.

At least he seemed to know where he was going.

Link, for his part, was hopelessly lost. He’d been lost when Sheik had found him, but now he thought he might never find his way out of these woods. A permanent sort of twilight had fallen over them early in the morning, and it persisted throughout the day until it began to darken still more with the oncoming night.

The forest around them was changing too. Instead of vacant and oppressively silent, sounds of life were beginning to pick up around them. Once or twice he thought he saw a fairy slipping in and out of the trees, but Sheik’s warning for him not to stray didn’t leave his mind. So despite his curiosity, he stayed.

The very air was changing too. It felt lighter, but alive. Like there was something whispering in the trees that he couldn’t see, only hear and feel. A strange wanderlust took him and it became harder and harder to remain on the path, even as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the back of Sheik’s ratty tabard.

“It’s magic,” Sheik had explained shortly when Link brought it up. “We are entering sacred grounds, and there is protective magic everywhere. It will only grow from here.”

At least, Link had thought glumly to himself, it didn’t feel as terrible as the dark magic at the temple.

The sky was dark and the forest rife with night life when Sheik finally stopped.

“We’ll rest here tonight,” he announced. “We should reach the grove tomorrow.”

Link immediately freed himself of his gear with a weary sigh. The ordeal of the morning, coupled with the strange atmosphere of their travels in the afternoon combined to make him as exhausted as he would be had he been running at a sprint the entire time.

“I will do the hunting,” Sheik said abruptly. “It’s too dangerous for you to stray off this path.”

“I’ll make the fire then,” Link replied in a sour voice. He was quickly getting sick of Sheik’s attitude.

He felt the Sheikah’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look up from his bag where he was rummaging around for his flint. It wasn’t until he’d pulled it out to inspect that he finally returned the look.

“What?” he said irritably.

Sheik just shook his head and turned away. “Don’t stray from the path.”

And without another word, he strode into the forest and vanished from sight.

“ _ ’Don’t stray from the path _ ,’” Link mimicked in a high pitched voice. “’ _ Don’t go and get yourself lost, wouldn’t want to regret letting you travel with me _ ’. Thrice, I would have been better off with the Goron’s.”

It was a very grumpy Link that settled back down by his bag a short time later, dried wood piled beside him and his hunting knife out to prepare a pit. Something about the priestess’s message had turned Sheik sour. That was all he could conclude. Before that, he’d been distant but at least amicable company. Now he was just insufferable.

Link was seriously debating whether or not he should continue with Sheik. Maybe he could just set out on his own and find Zelda himself. He’d always been a decent tracker; it wouldn’t be hard to find clues, surely. He could find her and devise his own plan to restore her back to the throne, then drag Ganon back to the desert where he would proceed to knock several tons of sense back into him.

Easy.

He was still grumbling to himself when Sheik returned some time later, two fat looking rabbits in hand. The fire was crackling merrily by then, though its warmth did little to help Link’s mood.

He somewhat spitefully let Sheik prepare the meals, picking at the dirt in front of him as he sulked.

What was with the change of attitude anyway? They hadn’t quite been on super amicable terms, but they’d at least conversed a little before they fought the Stalmasters. And Sheik hadn’t been cold and distant either. Now, Link might as well have been talking to a wall.

It reminded him a lot of his brother.

Perhaps he should try and make an effort—maybe mood swings were common among the shadow people.

“So,” he said after Sheik had served up the rabbits, figuring some food would loosen his tongue a little, “tell me more about this grove we’re going to. Is it like the other temples? Is there an Oracle in this one too?”

Sheik lowered his stick, gazing for a moment at the rabbit as though it were telling him whether or not he should answer. Apparently the rabbit decided he should, because after another sigh he spoke.

“It’s not like the other temples, not in the manner that we know them,” he said heavily. “The Sacred Grove houses the ruins of an ancient temple. It was once called the Temple of Time. Do you know of it?”

Link thought back through his lessons as a child, trying to recall if such a place had ever been mentioned.

“No.” he replied.

Sheik scoffed. “What do they teach you out there? Stealing and little more?”

Link bristled in indignation. “We aren’t part of Hyrule, if you’ll recall,” he said coolly. “We are taught about our own history and survival. Sorry if that doesn’t meet your grandiose expectations.”

He might have imagined it, but in the light of the fire he thought he saw Sheik flush a little.

“Right,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

“So what’s the Temple of Time?” Link pressed, hoping to avoid an argument.

“It was once the centre point of all of Hyrule’s lore. In the time of our ancestors, it held the entrance to the Sacred Realm and the resting place of the ancient powers of the gods before it was split into three.”

“I think I remember something about that actually,” Link mused. He recalled something about the gods powers, but he couldn’t quite picture it clearly. “The Triforce, right? You’re saying that thing exists?”

“Of course it does,” Sheik replied brusquely. “Back then it lived in the Temple of Light, hidden within the Temple of Time. But during the era of the Hero of Time it was split and now lives within those destined to wield it. Or so the story goes. There hasn’t been anything like that in generations. Although…”

He trailed off, gazing into the fire. Link waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be lost in thought and didn’t seem inclined to.

“…So what’s there now?” He asked when Sheik didn’t explain further.

The Sheikah started a little as though he’d been miles away, and turned his piercing red eyes on Link. It was a strange look, and Link wasn’t so sure he liked it.

“Now it’s nothing but ruins, but it guards something that few people in our history have ever been able to approach. The priestess said someone was waiting for us there, so I can only assume that whatever is going on has something to do with that.”

“And that is…?”

But Sheik shook his head, clearly not inclined to continue. “You’ll find out tomorrow. We both will.”

With that cryptic response, the pair of them fell into silence.

Sheik insisted that he take first watch that night, and Link was too tired from the events of the day to argue. From the fight itself to the emotional whiplash of Sheik’s mood, he was quite content to divest himself of his weapons as he had the night before, and find a soft patch of grass to curl up on by the fire.

What could this ‘sacred grove’ possibly hold that was so important? Link strained his memory to find any inkling of something that might give him an answer, but try as he might he couldn’t come up with a single clue. The Gerudo history, he had always thought privately, had forever been somewhat modified, with great chunks missing through the ages. Particularly when they came close to dying out some generations past. Perhaps whatever Sheik was alluding to was involved in those periods of time missing from his lessons.

Soft music drifted across the clearing. Sheik had pulled out his lyre and was playing what sounded like a lullaby. The notes were soothing, and they washed over Link like a comforting warmth, making him sleepy and content.

Not for the first time did he wonder whether that lyre hold strange magic, but he was too tired to think on it.

Sheik had barely played the first round of notes before Link was fast asleep.

 

xXx

 

_ “Link.” _

_ There was nothing but grey, everywhere he looked. If he could feel, perhaps it would be cold. But there was nothing but the mist, a haze over him dulling his senses and his mind. _

_ “Link.” _

_ In the fog of his dream his name echoed in an oddly familiar voice, yet he couldn’t place who it belonged to. Laced underneath it was another name, one that rang bitter and tasted of memories and days best left forgotten. The same man, same voice. Different time. _

_ “I’ve been waiting for you, Hero.” _

_ In the unidentifiable grey he heard footsteps, someone walking through dried leaves, the chill of autumn curling up in his bones. He shivered but could do nothing, simply observing with everything but his sight. The footsteps halted and he swore on his life that whoever made them was standing right in front of him. If only he could reach out. If he could only just see through this mist… _

_ “Link, I will see you again!” _

_ He could smell fire. Smoke choked his lungs and the acrid smell of sulphur, and still he tried to reach through the mist, growing desperate to know who was calling for him. _

_ He tried to cry out, to find his voice and say something to the person standing only feet away from him, but he couldn’t. His throat was gagged, his lungs choked with water and suddenly he was drowning. _

_ Water all around, everywhere, a laugh that sounded like his own but wasn’t him, taunting him with illusions while his jaw snapped and elongated and his face came away again and again, and he fell from the sky with nothing to break his fall and there was nothing and no one and an ocarina rang through it all playing that song. _

_ That song. _

_ Their song. _

_ “Link! We shall meet again!” _

_ But he didn’t. _

_ They didn’t. _

_ He hated them. _

_ He tried to scream, tried to tell the stranger that he had been searching, but he couldn’t speak through the fire and the water and the decaying smell of graveyards and deserts and hell, hell, hell. _

_ “Link!” _

_ And then he found his voice… _

“Link!”

Something touched his shoulder, and in an instant the fog receded and the pain was gone, and Link was wrenched into wakefulness so hard that he sat bolt upright, ready to cleave whatever threat was before him in two just the second he could grasp his weapon…

But he had no weapon. There was no fog.

Only wide red eyes staring at him, pinched in pain, because Link was gripping his wrist tight enough to bruise.

With a jolt of disoriented surprise, Link let go of Sheik and scrambled back, kicking up dust while he fought to collect himself. The camp fire had burned down, barely more than embers, but the sky was still dark.

“Link…? Are you alright?”

He held his face in his hands, clutching at his hair while he tried to recall the dream. There had been someone…someone he knew. Someone he’d been waiting for…or who had been waiting for him?

But even as he tried to grasp the memories of the dream, details slipped through his fingers like sand and he found it harder and harder to remember.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into his hands. “I just…bad dream.”

There was a rather tense silence, while Link tried to settle his racing heart. It was no use trying to remember it all. Only one thing stuck out in his mind.

_ “We shall meet again!” _

“What were you dreaming about?” Sheik asked in a strange tone.

Link shook his head. “I can’t remember. There was someone there…someone I know. Or knew…I’m not sure. And…music. There was music.” But he couldn’t name the instrument that played it, nor recall the tune. He just knew it had been present.

With a great exhale he lifted his head, staring at the fire for a moment before raising his eyes to Sheik’s. Sheik was looking at him closely, once again giving Link that strange feeling of being pierced through.

“It was probably the magic,” Sheik said finally. “This place is thick with it.”

“Yeah,” Link agreed without really agreeing. He’d been in places thick with magic before and hadn’t dreamed like this.

Sheik retreated back to where he’d been sitting previously, picking up his lyre again. He was still watching Link intently, but Link was taking no notice.

At least, not until the music started.

A whimsical, gentle tune drifted across the clearing, and Link’s attention was drawn to it at once. He felt something in him stir, like a vague memory, and an emotion that had no reason to be there rose up.

Anger.

Anger that didn’t belong to him, that he didn’t understand. But he knew that song, even though he’d never heard it before.

“ _ Stay with me for a while?” _

The music stopped. Link glanced up, seeing Sheik staring at him harder than before.

“What did you say?”

“I…what?”

Sheik plucked a few more strings, his expression unreadable. “You said something just then. What was it?”

But Link was confused, brow furrowed. The anger that he’d felt had dissipated with the music, and he had no clue what Sheik was talking about. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes you did,” Sheik said warily. “You spoke, while I was playing. I…it felt…” But he trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. Are you going to go back to sleep?”

“I don’t think I can,” Link replied glumly. “I’m not tired anymore. You sleep. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Sheik just nodded. He seemed wary, which in turn put Link on edge. Strange things were happening in the forest, and he didn’t like it in the slightest. Because at his heart, Link was a simple man. He liked things to be straightforward and easily explained, and he liked uncomplicated thoughts and feelings. Part of the reason why the Oracle of Din drove him nuts was because she was always so cryptic, and he hated figuring out her riddles.

It was probably why he was easily irritated with Sheik too. The only things he’d learned since meeting the guy was that everything was more than it seemed. And with the odd things stirring in the forest, he was extremely disconcerted.

He said nothing as Sheik settled down against his tree, and kept his eyes focused on the fire. There was no more music and no more strange emotions to be had, for which he was grateful.

The sooner they got out of this forest, the better.

Through the night, he thought he heard Sheik mumbling in his sleep, but didn’t care enough to pay attention. He was too busy trying to figure out what was a trick and what was real in the darkness around their little camp site, but nothing seemed threatening. Once or twice he thought he saw the glow of a fairy again, but resisted the urge to go and investigate. He kept himself stubbornly in place in front of the fire, and didn’t budge until the strange twilight of the morning began to lighten the clearing.

It was when he moved to wake Sheik up that Link realised something was off. The night before, Sheik had slept as still as stone against his tree, the only sign of life being the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Now, Sheik was visibly restless. He was twitching, eyes fluttering under his lids while he mumbled in his own language. Brows furrowed, and his hands clenched against his tabard, breath shorter than should be natural for a man asleep.

“...Sheik?”

Link was loathe to prod him awake, not particularly interested in losing his head so early in the morning. But when the Sheikah didn’t respond to his name, he moved in and nudged him lightly in the shoulder.

Red eyes shot open and Sheik sat up so fast that Link fell back flat on his ass in surprise. It wasn’t exactly a violent response, but the cry in a different language startled him enough. It had been a cry of despair.

Silence fell between them, Sheik obviously reorienting himself while he blinked rapidly. Link just stared, unsure whether he should say or do anything, but wanting to break the tension anyway.

“…Bad dream?” he asked lamely.

Sheik took a few deep breaths before he relaxed, rubbing at his head in much the same way Link had when he’d woken up.

“Yeah.”

_ Well, at least I’m not the only one then. _

Unlike Sheik, however, Link didn’t ask for details. Whatever he’d been dreaming about wasn’t really Link’s business anyway, and even though he was curious about what sort of thing a Sheikah might find disturbing, he didn’t prod. He doubted he’d understand it much anyway.

“I heard you.”

And then everything came to a screeching halt.

Link turned from where he’d been making his way back to his things, mouth half open while he fixed Sheik with a stare. “You what?”

“In my dream,” Sheik replied quietly. “I heard you. You were asking me to…stay.”

_ Stay with me for a while? _

But…how could…

That was impossible. How could they both be having the same sort of dream? If that was indeed what was happening, that is. Magic was a strange thing, but surely it wasn’t able to do  _ that _ .

Link gaped at Sheik for a moment, thoroughly unsure what to say. When nothing came to him, he closed his mouth and stared at the burnt out remains of the camp fire.

“What does this mean…?” Sheik muttered under his breath, but it sounded like he was talking to himself rather than Link, so Link again opted not to answer. “I’ve never met you before yesterday. You’ve never met me. How could you be showing up in my dreams? How could I be showing up in yours? It doesn’t…”

“Like you said,” Link interrupted, “magic. The forest could be playing with us. Throwing us off our game. It could be another ward to disturb us so that we don’t go wandering in any further.”

Seemed like a pretty effective one too. The last thing Link wanted to do was go further into those woods.

Silence met his words, and he glanced up. Once more, as he had when Link had woken hours ago, Sheik was staring at Link with that curiously penetrating look. Link shifted uncomfortably, glancing away as he felt his cheeks grow hot.

“Well it’s as valid a reason as any,” he huffed.

“I don’t disagree,” Sheik murmured quietly. “I’m just…never mind. We should continue on.”

Link took a deep breath to stop himself from asking questions. Even if they were the most pertinent questions in the world, he doubted Sheik would give him a straight answer right now.

Feeling grumpy, tired and magic-weary, the duo packed up their little campsite and carefully continued on with their journey to the Sacred Grove. They didn’t speak of the strange dreams again.

It seemed to Link that the closer to the Grove they got, the more oppressive the magic. Though it wasn’t dark and painful like the magic at the temple, it was still thick enough in the air to set him on edge and put pressure behind his eyes. The path ahead of him seemed to waver, so much so that he’d taken to holding the back of Sheik’s tabard to stop from getting lost.

For some reason, the wayward magic that existed to lure travellers off their path was much stronger in Link. Several times Sheik had to stop him from leaving the faded track, even when Link was consciously telling himself to keep hold of the tabard. Neither of them could guess why, and it made the entire trek all the more difficult.

Finally, after many near-misses and a threat to solder Link’s hand to Sheik’s clothing, they broke through the magical barrier and entered the Sacred Grove.

To Link, it looked like any other forest clearing. Trees stretched high above them forming a thick canopy that sunlight shone through in weak beams, and vines circled their way across their trunks to form perches for the many creatures that called it home. Scrubby little plants grew at the boughs of the trees, and through them he thought he could see the glint of eyes or the shuffling of movement.

The light was diluted, giving the entire clearing a somewhat more surreal atmosphere despite its apparent ordinary appearance. And when Link stepped forward, he felt a thrill run through his body—like a caress, or a whisper of greeting.

“Did you feel that?” he muttered to Sheik, who was half a step in front of him.

“Feel what?” One red eye fixed on him, the look in it full of a meaning that Link didn’t understand. “The only thing I can feel here is the weight of the holy magic that surrounds us.”

Link twisted his mouth. Somehow, it felt like Sheik was mocking him even though he hadn’t said anything to suggest it. So he brushed off the question and continued glancing around, noticing here and there several little peculiarities that definitely gave the clearing away as something entirely  _ not _ normal, despite its first impression.

An old, crumbling wall sat on the opposite side of the clearing, part of it missing in such a way that suggested there might once have been a window there. Above it, the trees grew in a strange arc that didn’t match the rest of the surrounds, almost as though they were leaning heavily over a clear space that was once barred.

Only a short distance away, and so covered with lichen and moss that it could be mistaken for an old boulder, sat a peculiar little stone structure. Link glanced over his shoulder at Sheik, who was still prowling strangely around the clearing like he was looking for something, and edged towards it.

The stone, now decaying and grey under the lichen, would have once been a brilliant white. Link bent over it closely, curiosity drawing him in more than anything else in this odd place. It wasn’t shaped like any natural structure, being wide and square with a slightly raised portion at the back, and along the front sat three empty plinths.

“Is this…?” Link said suddenly. He straightened up and looked around him, realisation dawning, and with it a new sharp understanding of the area.

Eroded, barely visible steps led away from the altar, through what Link had initially passed as a natural wall cut into the rocky outcrop. He turned and spotted more faded, decaying stone, the tell tale marks of human workmanship dotting the deceptively plain clearing. It was barely more than broken, sad piles of rock and rubble now, but the foundation was there, and Link knew exactly where he stood.

Blue eyes finally landed on Sheik, who had gone very still a short distance away.

“You know where we are now,” Sheik said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

“The Temple of Time,” Link replied anyway. “Is this all that’s left?”

“Yes,” Sheik replied. “This is the grove, and we are standing in what’s left of the Temple of Time. It’s likely the only remnant left of the old Hyrule. Before the flood destroyed it all.”

Link glanced around, half expecting whatever they were there for to leap out from behind the trees full of answers. The Priestess in the Temple of Farore had told them to come here, and so they had…but there was no one waiting. The clearing was bare and devoid of anything that might hint to what they had to do next.

He turned back to Sheik, confused. “Aren’t we supposed to meet someone here?”

“That’s what the Priestess said,” Sheik replied. He sounded equally as unsure, which didn’t make Link feel any better. “But I don’t see anyone.”

“Me neither…”

They continued to edge around the grove for a short while longer, looking for clues about what they should do. Sheik seemed mesmerised by the dais with it’s three vacant plinths; his eyes kept travelling back to it whenever he moved near, and he seemed to gravitate around it. Link didn’t bother asking. He wasn’t interested in being scoffed at for not knowing what it was.

“Alright,” he finally said after searching and coming up with nothing. “I give up. Why did that woman send us here if there’s nothing for us to find?”

“Because you need to learn about yourself.”

This voice did not come from Sheik. In fact, it resembled Sheik’s voice in precisely zero ways at all, and Link turned to the source to see a tall, lovely woman draped in white gliding somewhat eerily across the clearing. She was coming from the direction of the high wall that Link had mistaken for a cliff face, her expression serene.

Sheik dropped into a bow immediately. Link begrudgingly followed—only because he knew that this was a priestess of the Temple and she deserved respect, regardless of his opinions on the place.

“Welcome, Link of the Gerudo, and Sheik of the  _ Saaya Yol’ha. _ ” The priestess beckoned for them both to rise, offering a slow nod of her head in return. “You have both travelled far to arrive here. Come, there is much of great importance to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, updates will slow down from here as that's the last of the reposted chapters. Never fear, I have now finished school and shall definitely have much more time to write. Your comments and kudos have given me so much renewed encouragement for this, I appreciate every single one! Next chapter is half written already, and hopefully shan't be too far away, though I won't be keeping any kind of schedule (I am way too fickle for that). Thank you guys for reading and commenting, and I hope this fic continues to keep you entertained while we all wait for BOTW! <3


	6. V

The priestess remained stoically quiet as she led them across the clearing. Link hesitated at first, but followed only after Sheik gave him a look that plainly said ‘ _ stay here under pain of death _ ’. Whatever this woman had to say, it was clearly important. Sheik obviously had some inclination judging by the way he was acting, but Link was completely clueless.

The Priestess glided back towards the cliff, apparently paying either of them no mind. She paused long enough to whisper something into the still air—and then stepped through the rock altogether.

Link blinked.

“Cloaking spells,” Sheik whispered to him. “Strong enough that even I can’t see through them. Go on, it will allow you through.”

Twisting his mouth, Link turned back to the old, battered stone and took a deep breath. He strode forwards, fully expecting to end up smacking face first into the stone, but was instead overcome by a peculiar, warm trickling sensation along the back of his neck while the world in front of his eyes transformed.

The clearing had gone.

Instead of lush green trees and the gloom of the forest, there was now nothing but bright light bouncing off tall walls of white stone. Strangely washed out looking pews lined the floor, heading towards the old altar Link had recognised back in the clearing. An altar that was now bright and whole, with not a sign of decay or lichen on it anywhere.

The air around him shimmered, and he shuffled aside as Sheik stepped through the barrier. His cowl was up, but his eyes were wide and filled with awe, darting around the place to evidently drink in as much as he possibly could.

“This,” said the Priestess serenely, “is the Temple of Time.”

Taking a deep breath, Link could do little more than whistle. “Front garden needs some maintenance.”

The comment earned him a sharp elbow in the side from Sheik.

The priestess looked like she’d hardly heard a thing. With a wave of her hand, she beckoned for Link and Sheik to follow her. Both complied, each staring around them in amazement while they edged across the brightly lit hall. Somewhere, faintly, a choir could be heard. It sounded unearthly and almost eerie, the music in a language Link didn’t understand, and even though he couldn’t see who the singers were, he felt chills creeping down his spine.

Everything was so surreal that Link could hardly believe he was here. There was even a brief moment where he entertained the idea that he was having another magic induced fever dream. The knowledge that this place, so bright and alive and  _ whole _ , still existed in some way—it was almost beyond comprehension.

Beside him, Sheik was still gazing around in awe. His eyes stayed fixed on one thing for barely a second before darting onto the next, and Link was struck with a somewhat shameful realisation that he had very little reverence or understanding of the significance of this place. He knew what it was…but only barely. He had no such reverence of the place they were in now.

They were led out of the main hall and down a side corridor, lit by soft candelabras that flickered off the wall in a ghostly way. The Priestess was silent, gliding along without waiting to see whether her two guests were following her, and only stopped when she reached the high archway of a rather cozy looking antechamber.

“Please sit,” she instructed, and Link and Sheik both slipped into the room to do as they were told.

This room was small, and decorated with deep reds and golds that gave a sense of majesty. The small table was of a deep red wood like the pews, but nothing sat on it save a single candle.

In the corner, there was perched a peculiar looking stone. It was tall and wide, with markings on it that resembled a face. Link’s eyes focused on its eye though, for it only had one, and it was almost identical the eye emblazoned on Sheik’s tabard.

“Sheikah stone,” he heard Sheik whisper beside him. Link glanced at it again, finding himself struck by that same feeling he sometimes had with Sheik; as though he was being peered at so intensely that he was transparent. 

He shivered and looked away.

He’d expected at least some kind of complimentary drink when they arrived at their destination—a customary gesture of his own people—but found his hopes dashed when the Priestess moved to kneel across from them at the bare table. She seemed altogether unconcerned about etiquette or appearances, much like her brethren in the other temples. Link had to stop himself from twisting his mouth a little in distaste.

“My name is Alpria. Link of the Gerudo and Sheik of the Sheikah, do you understand where you sit right now?”

No welcome, no greeting. Like all the other Priestesses Link had come across, the woman was cold and uncaring—just shy of the attitude of the Oracles themselves.

He was struck by a vague wonder at the prospect of an Oracle being here too.

“We’re in the Temple of Time,” Sheik replied. “The real Temple. But I don’t understand…I thought it was destroyed.”

“It was, yes.” The Priestess replied. “Its physical form succumbed to the Great Flood, but we were protected inside its walls by the sages themselves. This is the Temple of Time as it was centuries ago, before the flood claimed the land and cleansed Hyrule.”

Silence fell. Sheik shifted beside him, but Link kept his eyes half-fixed on the table. The atmosphere in this place was uncomfortable. Unlike in the clearing, when he had felt that gentle, soft whisper of welcome in the air, in here it felt almost like he were in a stale environment where the air was too still and everything not-quite-real.

He supposed it  _ wasn’t  _ quite real, not if the sages had preserved it. The entire Temple existed in a sort of limbo. Link didn’t understand it, and he had no real desire to try.

“But,” Alpria finally broke the silence, “that is not what we are here for. There is much that needs to be discussed, but unfortunately very little time to do so. Tell me, how did you come to decide that this was a place to which you must travel?”

Silence again. After another minute or so of staring at his hands, Link glanced up to see whether Sheik was going to tell the Priestess what she wanted to know. However, as soon as he did, his eyes met both the vibrant red and steely blue of Sheik and the Priestess’s gazes, and he hunched his shoulders when he realised that they were expecting  _ him _ to answer.

_ Dammit, why couldn’t Sheik just do it? _

“Met a Priestess at the Temple of Faron,” Link mumbled. “She told us to come here.”

“Hmm,” Alpria hummed. “And did she say why?”

“Just said something about destiny,” replied Link. “I didn’t really understand it.”

“No,” came the rather absent reply, “I don’t suppose you would. Each one is always blind to his past for a time, until it is right for it to be revealed.”

Sheik shifted, and whispered something that Link didn’t understand under his breath. He made a strange gesture, bringing his hands up over his eyes and bowing forward over the table. No one seemed to think this was out of place, except for Link.

“Each what?” He asked, feeling more and more like he was on the outer of some great secret.

“There is always a moment when they must awake. Past, present or future,” Alpria continued dreamily. “That time approaches us.”

“Who is awake?”

“The Goddess Farore has spoken with us, and though our Oracle is lost, she has told us the time is now.”

“What’s now? What are you talking about?” Link was growing increasingly frustrated. Not a single question he had had been answered since setting foot in this place, and like any encounter with the Oracles in the past, only more questions sprouted. Sheik was silent beside him, refusing to so much as look at him, and Alpria continued to talk as though he weren’t even there.

He grit his teeth and glared at the Sheikah stone, unwilling to look at the Priestess anymore.  _ Or _ Sheik. They were both as bad as each other, talking in their riddles and refusing to explain themselves. What did they expect of him? He knew little of Hyrule or its lore, having only learned of the common tales as a child. It wasn’t fair of them to treat him as though he  _ should _ know everything.

The strange feeling of being invisible hit him again, the eye etched into the stone boring into him so that it felt like it gazed into his very soul. As he stared, the smile on the stone seemed to leer, stretching strangely in the heavy atmosphere of the temple. Link felt light headed, his heart beating loudly in his ears, everything else drowned out while he stared…

 

_ I will see you again… _

That voice…

_ I’ve been waiting for you, Hero… _

It was so familiar.

_ Stay with me for a while? _

Where did he know if from? Why couldn’t he place it…?

_ Link…we shall meet again! _

It made him feel so… _ angry _ . So  _ betrayed _ . So…

_ Link… _

…Lonely.

_ Link… _

 

“Link!”

Link jerked back to awareness, blinking rapidly out of whatever strange trance had overcome him. His heart was in his throat, and a strange bubbling despair and regret that he’d never felt before churned his insides. He struggled to swallow down the gasp that wanted to escape, and turned back to the Priestess and Sheik, both of whom were staring at him with peculiar expressions.

In the corner, the Sheikah stone perched serenely, the ghost of a laugh echoing through the room.

“Sorry!” He said, feeling genuinely sheepish and more than a little disturbed. This place was screwing with him and he didn’t like it. “I…drifted?”

“Did you hear anything of what the Priestess was saying?” Sheik asked disapprovingly.

Link shot him a sour look. “I stopped listening when she refused to answer my questions.”

Sheik bristled, clearly taking great offence to the comment. But Link was shaken, confused and way out of his comfort zone, and he had no patience left to deal with vague uncomfortable things, nor any mind left for being well mannered. He wanted out of this place, away from the priestess and the Sheikah stone and everything that made him feel this way.

“You have the heart of a Gerudo,” Alpria said serenely. “And the spirit of courage.”

“That’s great,” Link said flatly, “but it still doesn’t explain anything.”

“If you’d been listening—”

“Now, young Sheikah,” Alpria interrupted. Sheik’s mouth snapped shut at once. “He is confused and unsure. I trust you have not been fully clear with him?”

Sheik flushed and looked away. He jerked his head once to acknowledge her comment, but otherwise remained silent.

“You should learn that to be his guide, you cannot keep such information from him, even if you feel it is not your place. You are his only source of familiarity now.”

“Wait,” Link interrupted the priestess, frowning in confusion. “My guide? For what?”

Alpria turned to him, eyes full of meaning. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and beside him Sheik fidgeted in place. There was a moment of silence, before the Priestess finally spoke.

“Do you recall the legends of the Hero of Hyrule?”

“Sort of,” Link replied. “He always fought off the evil bad guy or something. Saved the world a couple of times.”

He could practically  _ feel _ Sheik cringing beside him with his less than detailed attempt at recounting the story he knew.

“I don’t understand what that has to do with me though.”

“The Hero’s spirit is reincarnated,” Alpria said. “Every life time, when there is the birth of evil, so too is the spirit of the Hero reborn. He has taken many forms over the centuries; a great wolf, a young boy, a fearsome god. But he is always there to take up the blade, the one that will restore peace to the land.”

Link suddenly had a very,  _ very _ bad feeling about where this was going.

“He carries the Blade of Evil’s Bane, ending the turmoil, bringing Hyrule back to prosperity. He works with the people, for them, in order to smite the darkness. It is now, in this time of dire need, that the Hero must return and take up that which is his right. That is why you are here, Link. The one who must take up the blade, fulfill the legend and restore peace to Hyrule once and for all, is you.”

There was a very pregnant pause. Sheik made the same gesture as before, covering his eyes and bowing over the table while he mumbled under his breath.

“Horseshit,” Link said flatly.

Alpria blinked. Beside him, Sheik jerked violently.

“I beg your pardon?” The Priestess sounded puzzled. Obviously, his reaction was not what she had been expecting.

“I said that’s horseshit,” Link repeated. “For starters, I’m not even Hylian. Second, I thought the Hero had to have some unbreakable spirit or something. Third, I don’t even know what great evil you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

“You’re Hylian by heritage, Link,” Alpria reminded him. “You were raised in the desert, but you are a Hylian in your blood. In any case, there is no law that states from which people the Hero may hail. Your spirit has already suffered many trials and remained strong, and it will suffer many more.”

Link watched her sourly. She could justify it all she liked, but the fact was that he was no Hero. There were plenty of men out there more suited than him. Hell, there was one sitting beside him right now!

Sheik had spoken very little since the moment they’d set foot in the antechamber. Save for the few things he’d murmured to Link and when he bowed, he’d remained silent. Link turned to him, frowning heavily with new understanding.

“Did you know this was what we were coming here for?”

Sheik wouldn’t look at him, keeping his eyes on the table even when he turned his face to Link—cowl high over his mouth and nose.

“Yes.”

Link bristled. “Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you think you could have prepared me a little bit before we got here?”

“Would you have come if you’d known?” It was almost a challenge; Sheik daring Link to suggest that he had acted wrongly by keeping the information to himself as they travelled. He still wasn’t making eye contact, but his stance was firm.

The irritation fizzled out of Link in an instant. “Probably not,” he admitted glumly. “But I still think this is all some elaborate joke and you’ve made a mistake,” Link turned back to Alpria. “What’s this great evil, anyway?”

“The Black King. The man from the East who seeks to destroy all of Hyrule.” Alpria said it as though she were making a comment on a particularly nasty smell. “You must eradicate him from this world.”

Link’s insides ran cold, and he said nothing. She knew everything else about him apparently; surely she knew just exactly what she’d said, and how it would come across.

“You’re telling me I have to kill Ganondorf.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, Link.”

Link stared at her, then at Sheik, whose eyes were still fixed to the table. This time, the anger that filled him  _ did _ belong to him, and he straightened with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

“I’m out.”

As he moved to stand he heard Alpria make a confused noise, and Sheik sputtered out a protest. But he wasn’t hearing it. There was no way any of them would convince him that killing Ganondorf would make everything better. Link didn’t care who he was or what fancy weapon he had—they could find themselves a new Hero, because he was  _ not _ going to kill his brother! Goddesses, prophecies and whatever else they wanted to spout at him be damned!

“Link, wait—“

“Get off me, Sheik.”

“Hero,”

“Don’t  _ call _ me that!”

He shook Sheik off, and strode past Alpria without a second glance. No one paid him any mind as he marched through the corridors, stewing internally over the information suddenly dumped on him.

_ Him! _ Link! A Hero! The idea was ludicrous. Link was no hero; he was a Gerudo—shunned by Hyrule like the rest of his kin, no matter his biological heritage. Besides, didn’t the Hero of Legend need to be pure of spirit? Pure of heart and body? Wasn’t he supposed to be the epitome of everything perfect in a single person?

Link snorted to himself at the very idea. He was  _ none _ of those things.

To top it all off, they had the nerve to even  _ suggest _ …that they would so much as  _ think _ …!

It didn’t matter that Sheik didn’t yet know that Ganondorf was his brother. It didn’t matter that the Priestess probably didn’t know either (though Link doubted that she was unaware). Even if he hadn’t been raised as such, he would still vehemently refuse to turn a blade on another Gerudo.

Ganondorf wasn’t  _ evil _ . He wasn’t the  _ darkness _ , or whatever it was the stupid woman had said. He was just…angry. Angry and misguided. Killing him for something that had been fueled by years of wounded pride and desperation wasn’t  _ righteous _ . There was no justice in that at all! It was nothing more than payback for a few nasty actions!

_ He killed the King and destroyed the Hyrulian court, _ a tiny, traitorous voice in Link’s mind whispered.  _ He had you cast out. He’s the reason Zelda is missing. _

Link stopped walking, standing rooted to the spot while he took several deep breaths.

Okay, so Ganon had done some fucked up things. His anger had driven him to… _ whatever _ it was that he’d become, and he had acted rashly. The result was horrible, for not only the Hylian’s, but for other races too.

Link could accept that.

That didn’t mean Ganon had to die though. It didn’t mean that he deserved to be smited in whatever righteous battle Alpria and Sheik had envisioned. Link wanted the coup to end, he really did. But not like that. And not by his own hand.

Link stayed where he was for a few more minutes while he calmed himself down. The corridor was empty, and no one had come following him here. At least, not yet anyway. It was quiet, and in the tranquil air of the temple his anger slowly dissipated until nothing but a deep, heart heavy sadness remained.

_ What happened to you, Ganon? _

As he stood there gazing at the floor, he slowly began to grow more aware of a strange feeling in the air. Link could feel it in his gut, like a pull behind his navel encouraging him to move forward. It was coming from further down the corridor, where the hall opened up behind the altar.

“Hello…?”  

There was no answer to his cautious call, and the choir continued to sing as though the Temple were full of worshippers.

Link glanced behind him, fully expecting to be followed. But no one came, and the call was growing more and more persistent.

So he followed it.

With slow, cautious steps, he edged towards the end of the corridor and around the corner, finding himself behind the altar in the main hall. The feeling didn’t abate, even as he reached the altar and ran a hand along the smooth, white stone.

_ Play this song in front of the Door of Time… _

“What song?”

Link hadn’t realised he’d spoken out loud until he didn’t receive a response. Something stirred in his mind; a memory he didn’t remember, but somehow  _ did _ , of standing in front of the altar with a little blue instrument. The songs notes echoed in his mind, slow…telling a story…

_ Three brilliant stones, shining in front of him. A feeling of endless wonder, the music resonating through him. Bright light…  _

_ Loud rumbling of stone on stone… _

Loud rumbling…

The wall.

The wall was opening!

Link stumbled back with a gasp, shocked out of his day dream by the movement of what he’d thought was a completely solid wall of stone. In his mind he half saw it happening in a memory that wasn’t his, the same feeling of wonder overcoming him.

The wall wasn’t a wall at all. It was a door, and behind it stood a great antechamber.

A single beam of light made its way into the chamber from high up, shining across the floor and casting the rest of the room in shadow.

_ “Link…is that…!” _

He shook his head, trying to shake off the words that weren’t being spoken. Strange things were happening here, and he didn’t like it at all. The tugging feeling in his gut was growing stronger, urging him to step forward into the chamber. But he stayed where he was, completely unwilling to give.

This was magic that he had never experienced before in any form. No oracles, nor witches of old from his people in the desert had made him feel like this, so unsettled and on edge. Memories kept assaulting him, voices and people that he had never met before, whispering in the haze of the magic of the temple.

He wanted to get out of here. Away from it all, back into the open air of the field.

“Link…?”

It was Sheik who spoke, in a quiet, cautious voice. Link turned to face him and was surprised to see the look of remorse in his expression. His cowl was down and his eyes were heavy as he approached, the stiff posture from earlier all but gone.

Sheik moved to stand next to Link, gazing briefly into the chamber.

“You know what’s in there, don’t you?”

Link jerked his head in the affirmative. Yes, he knew what was waiting in there—what was  _ calling _ for him as though it yearned for him.

“There’s no one else, Link,” Sheik said quietly—sadly. “You’re the only one.”

“I can’t,” Link whispered, and it was a struggle to keep his voice from breaking. “I can’t do what they want me to do, Sheik. He’s—“

“I know,” Sheik replied. “The Priestess explained it to me.”

“I can’t kill him,” and it was almost a plea, the way Link spoke. “You can’t make me kill him. There has to be another way.”

“So we’ll find another way. There will be something else we can do to stop him. But you have to take up the sword, Link. It’s the only way any of this will ever come to an end.”

Link turned back to the chamber, squinting through the beam of sunlight. On the other side, he could just make out its silhouette. It called to him, and the urge to blindly answer was strong. But as with all magic Link was wary, and he stood his ground against the urge. He would pick it up on his own terms.

“Why should I,” he whispered bitterly. “When Hyrule never came to our aid when we needed it?”

“You would let Hyrule fall?” Sheik asked. His voice was not judgemental; in fact, it seemed more like a curious question. “If Hyrule falls, your own people would be at risk. He will not stop at the throne.”

It was true. Ganondorf’s ambitions were endless. Once he had Hyrule under his grasp, he would expand and grow as his heart desired, until more kingdoms and more people fell. More deaths at his hands.

Link couldn’t allow it.

“No,” he said finally. “I am not like the King of Hyrule was. I would not let his people fall to ruin like he did us.”

Beside him, unseen, Sheik smiled.

Link took a few more deep breaths, grounding himself against the whispers of memories and magic that drifted through him. After a few moments, he stepped forward with determination, eyes fixed on the shadow behind the beam of light. The call grew as he moved into the chamber, and continued to grow as he approached the pedestal, until it was almost a painful twist in his stomach that refused to abate.

The Master Sword was long and thin, built unlike any sword Link was used to. He stared at it, sitting innocuously in its pedestal atop the large stone platform. This was the sword of legends, older than anyone could trace. As far back as the first civilisations on the ground—or so he recalled from the stories he half-listened to as a child. And yet it looked as though it were made yesterday, not a scratch on its hilt or handle.

Even the engraving at the base of the blade was perfectly clean and sharp.

“You have a lot to answer for,” he spoke aloud to it, unaware of the audience watching in the main hall.

When no answer came—not that he ever expected one from a sword—Link reached out a hesitant hand. There were no magical barriers, or anything that zapped him as he touched two fingers to the pommel. It seemed as plain as any other sword, though slightly fancier in design. One would never notice that it was imbued with holy energy.

Link’s fingers curled around the handle, and it felt as though it were made especially for him. He gazed at the blade for a few more seconds, waiting for a shock of magic that never came, and pulled.

It came free with a surprisingly dull scrape in a way that was completely anticlimactic. Link gazed at the fine steel blade, admiring its flawless design, before giving it a few swings. It felt like it was made for him—perfectly balanced, light in his hold and easy to manoeuvre.

“Well, I was almost expecting a chorus of music and a halo, but I guess this will do.”

When he turned back to face Sheik at the entrance to the antechamber, he was startled to find not only him, but the priestess and one other attendant there. All three of them were on one knee, heads bowed before him.

“Hero,” the Priestess said (sending a flash of irritation through Link), “you have returned to us.”

“I was here the whole time,” Link replied shortly. “And I told you to stop calling me ‘Hero’.”

He didn’t feel any different, let alone like some great Hero. The sword was easily held in his grip, but that was about the extent of it. There was no great surge of strength or courage, no sudden inspiration or understanding. He didn’t feel any stronger, clearer or more courageous.

He just felt like an idiot with a fancy sword.

His three spectators stood as Link approached. The Priestess was the only one openly looking at him, and her face was lit with a radiant smile. Link didn’t bother smiling back.

“Come,” Alpria said, holding her hand out. “We will prepare you for your journey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the lovely feedback! It's really inspiring and encouraging!   
> Thank you also to my lovely beta Sagesins, for having the patience to listen to me laugh at my own terrible jokes.


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